Pickled

Takes two to encumber

One for salt

Two for ensembling the hors d’oevres

One for plummeting to the depths

Of the pickle.

Vodka’s my shot of peacehood

My blessed arrangement

For the mold of the statue

Called the misfitting allegorical

Sayings of the seven nuns of Sion.

Copyright B E Saunders 2016

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